I shrug and suck in a breath to call for Dennis before remembering he can’t hear me. How does someone get the attention of a deaf, skittish alley cat?
‘Treats,’ I sign, then go for the bag that Milo had shoved inside the tote. I drop a few on the floor, but there’s no sign of Dennis, so I set the bag on the shelf for later. ‘I’m sure he’ll come out eventually.’
‘To bite me,’ Rome signs with a flat expression. “I bet that’s when he comes out.’
I feel a smile tugging at my lips, so I walk over and yank him toward me by the front of his shirt and kiss him. He’s stiff for a second, then melts against my chest and hums. His hands move around the back of my neck and fiddle with my hair that’s grown a little too long.
‘Are you still hungry, boyfriend?’
He grins and flushes as he ducks his head, shy when I use that word. It’s sweet, and I hope he’s not regretting it now. ‘A little. We worked out hard.’
I have some leftover stir-fry I’d prepped in bulk, so I walk to the kitchen, pull out the container, and show it to him.
He shrugs in approval, then points at himself, then at the couch.
‘Go sit,’ I tell him. I want him to feel comfortable here. Like he can make this place his own and not need to hover at my side.
I busy myself with putting together a couple of plates of chicken, veg, and rice. It’ll be dry as shit from the microwave, but both of us seem too wiped out from the day to care much. I wonder, despite not getting an A+, if he’s still going to put in an effort.
Is he going to plan another date? Is he serious about us being exclusive, and if so, what kind of boyfriend will he be?
What kind willIbe?
I’ve never dated a guy before, and I know it’ll be different.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and spin to see him looking at me. His eyebrows lower. ‘What are you thinking?’ He reaches out and traces a line over my lips. The motion tells me I was frowning.
‘Boyfriend,’ I sign without thinking.
He wrinkles his nose as he stares at me.
I shift a little and then sigh. ‘Changing your mind about me?’ The signs feel heavy on my hands with the weight of how much I’m worried about that.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, like he’s annoyed with me, and I get it. Insecurity isn’t the most attractive quality in anyone. But then he bumps me into the counter with his hips and curls a hand around my jaw.
He licks his lips, then says aloud, “I like you.”
The words hit me like a physical caress, right in the center of the chest, and then it tightens. I reach up, touching his lips, and he presses a kiss to my fingertips.
‘You don’t have to speak for me,’ I tell him. ‘I like your voice. But I know you don’t prefer it.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s not about that. Growing up, I was good at speech therapy, and I can hear some. Better with hearing aids, but I hate wearing them.’
I knew he had some hearing, but I never wanted to ask how much.
‘I was good at lipreading,’ he goes on. ‘It never bothered me until college.’
I frown. ‘Why college?’
He puffs out a breath of air, then shrugs and gestures to the microwave. Shit, I didn’t realize it had gone off. Ironic that the Deaf man noticed and not me. I nod and turn around, grabbingour plates and trying to ignore the burn of hot ceramic as I lead the way to the living room.
He takes a seat close enough that our knees touch, but he doesn’t take his plate when I set them both down on the coffee table.
‘I’m sorry if I brought up a painful past.’
He meets my gaze and shakes his head. ‘No. It’s fine. You should know.’ He hesitates and then begins. ‘Growing up, I went to a residential Deaf school, so I was always around my community. Then after high school, I got accepted to Gallaudet, and going out of state felt exciting, thrilling. It’s the only university in the USA that’s fully Deaf,’ he adds.
I nod. I’ve done enough classes with Denver and have heard plenty of stories from all my Deaf friends to know how freeing that was for them.
